Page 39 of Seven Reasons to Murder Your Dinner Guests
“I don’t know what I’ll do without her,” he says quietly.
“Bill, sorry to interrupt,” says the woman holding the now-awake baby on her hip. “But Auntie Maureen is leaving and…”
As she looks over apologetically at the group, Tristan noticesher familiar eyes. Amber, the exact shade of Janet’s. In fact, she’s just like Janet, only a more rumpled, shrunken-down version. This woman’s blond highlights make way for a couple of inches of dark roots, her black long-sleeved dress accessorized with a milky stain on the shoulder.
“This is Caroline, Janet’s sister,” says Bill, visibly pulling himself back together. “And baby Tabitha, our niece, who sadly Janet hadn’t met yet.”
“Hello everyone,” Caroline says as she distractedly bounces the grumbling little girl, who has pink cheeks and a matching pink pacifier that twitches rhythmically under her furious sucking. Tristan hears a littletutfrom Gordon.
“She’s beautiful,” says Vivienne.
“Thank you,” Caroline responds, smiling, though the joy doesn’t reach her eyes. “She’s teething and not very happy today. The dummy seems to be the only thing to settle her.”
“Darling, Auntie Maureen needs to go to the restroom,” a man says, putting his hand on Caroline’s shoulder, which she quickly brushes off.
“On my way, Giles,” she snaps. “This is my husband.”
They watch the three of them walk away, Bill a few steps in front, Caroline gazing down at her baby, who starts to cry again, and Giles trotting behind.
“So how are you, Gordon?” Vivienne asks, pointedly looking him up and down.
“In excellent health, Vivienne,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets and hopping from one foot to the next. “Clean livingis agreeing with me, it seems.”
“Been for a run?” Melvin frowns when Gordon fails to offer an explanation.
“Not today,” he says. “I just wanted to check in with you all following the news of Janet’s demise. The email group has gone quiet. Vivienne, did you find your envelope in the end?”
Gordon
Rather than answering his question in a timely manner, Vivienne turns to roll her eyes at the others and then takes a large sip from her repulsive-looking drink, no doubt laden with sugar and artificial food coloring. They all seem to be annoyed by his very presence, that much Gordon can perceive, but he really doesn’t have time for this. Then he’s distracted by a pile of coins that sits on the table in front of Melvin. Research has shown that coins can harbor pathogens likeE. coliandSalmonella. They’re among the most bacteria-ridden things that people touch every day, including mobile phones, washing-up sponges, and remote controls. He can practically see the little cucumber-shaped bacteria crawling over the coins and scuttling like centipedes across the table toward him. He takes a deep breath and forces his eyes up to Vivienne, who is now flipping through her notebook.
“Sodidyou find your envelope?” he asks again, ensuring he breathes through his nose, thus helping to protect him against any viruses his companions might unwittingly be sending his way. Vivienne slowly lowers her drink back to the filthy table and sighsloudly. Why can’t she just answer his question with a straight yes or no?
“Sadly not, Gordon,” she says finally.
“It really was quite careless of you to lose such an important piece of evidence,” Gordon admonishes.
“Don’t speak to her like that,” Tristan snaps, turning his cool blue eyes on Gordon.
“It’s OK, Tristan,” Vivienne tells him, touching his elbow. “I’m thoroughly annoyed with myself about it.”
“She’s not one of your students, you know,” Tristan mutters, grabbing a green cocktail and taking a noisy sip from the straw.
Gordon watches Tristan and thinks how, despite his age and reasonable intelligence, his behavior is reminiscent of Gordon’s teenage daughter. In other words, he seems constantly on the brink of a tantrum.
Then he glances at the police officer, Melvin, who is merrily slurping on his own luminous drink, and then to Vivienne, who is frowning as she flips through her notebook. Sighing, he thinks of Elizabeth, who might have offered some advice in dealing with these people. But he hasn’t spoken to his wife in three weeks, hasn’t seen her in months.
On his train ride back home following Matthew’s memorial, Gordon started to put together his action plan. He marched into the kitchen, where Elizabeth and Louisa were sitting, facing each other across their kitchen table, hands encasing large mugs of hot chocolate, with a number of pink and white marshmallows floating on top. They both looked up at him guiltily, and between them,like crime scene evidence, was a canister of squirty cream and a little plastic tub of chocolate powder. He did a double take; those items definitely had not been in the kitchen cupboards when he’d looked that morning. His wife and daughter must have hidden them away from him… No matter, he had more important things to discuss. After sending Louisa off to her room still clutching her mug as if it were an extension of her hand, he told Elizabeth they needed to talk and laid out his plans in the simplest, most concise manner. Unfortunately, his wife didn’t respond in kind and started sobbing before he could finish.
“So you’re leaving me?” Elizabeth spluttered, dabbing her cheeks with the tissue Gordon had handed her.
“Well, yes, but I think it will be beneficial for all of us.” He attempted to reassure her with some statistics he had in hand, but she wasn’t in the frame of mind to listen.
“Is there another woman?”
“Of course not,” he cried, genuinely horrified at the thought of adding yet another stressful element to his life.
“Be honest with me, Gordon: Do you want a divorce?” she asked once the flow of tears had eased off somewhat.
